Too much is happening right now in the world for me to wait until October for my next Q&A, both because of activities on the physical plane, where the U.S. presidential candidates are waging a war for the souls of the trailer park residents, rednecks and resentful Hillary Clinton supporters…and on the spiritual plane, where I recently won handily in a poker tournament against Thor, Osiris, Loki and that pansy-ass Dionysus (who brought fucking white zinfandel wine to the game, by the way). In short, I’m feeling my oats…well, my chickpeas anyway…and my inbox is bursting with questions from you miserable humans, so I might as well clear a couple of you off my olive-oil-smeared plate.
I, the great and powerful Hummus Idol, will now entertain your questions and grant unto you the wisdom that only a pile of very angry crushed chickpeas, tahini, olive oil and other seasonings can offer. Don’t let the smiling face fool you. I am a fridge-cold killah. Bow down before me, speak your question, and incline your ears or any other convenient part of your anatomy as I spew my advice upon thee.
Q: You miserable fucking traitor! I will see you ground up into an even finer mash than you currently are. I sold my soul to you for the vice presidency and I look like an idiot out there! Why aren’t you whispering answers into my ear? I got owned by Katie Couric, for God’s sake! Not only has George Will turned on me, but now that bitch from the National Review! The conservatives are supposed to looooove me. I believe the Earth is only 7,000 years old and I have said I expect the second coming of Christ to occur in my lifetime! I support drilling my state harder than Ron Jeremy did his leading ladies in porn movies. But I don’t know shit. I need your voice in my ears. Where are you…where are you? Damn it, please help already… – Miss Congeniality, Juneau, Alaska.
A: First off, Sarah, while you did indeed sell your soul to me for your current high profile role, let me point out two things.
First, you have recently aligned yourself with that fetish-whore Sister Mary Malcontent, as I noticed the other day. Instead of having faith in my powers alone, supercharged as they are with the tahini of the gods, you decided to hedge your bets by stooping to the use of sexual wiles to keep McCain from dropping your ass. By seeking the carnal talents and dominance training of Sister Mary, you have forsaken me. For reasons you need not be privy to, there is nothing but enmity between me and the bad sister. No extra help for you from me, you wannabe-fascist, extremist, hypocritical, shallow, opportunistic, book-banning wench.
Second, I never promised I’d get you elected. When you had that nutcake witch-hunting Pastor Muthee pray for your financial and political success instead of for wisdom or clear leadership, God turned His back on you. That’s why you had to turn to me. You sold your soul for the most powerful position currently open to someone of your talents in the United States. And that was the vice presidential candidate slot for the Republicans. Candidate. Not victor. You’re on your own now, toots. Next time you sell your soul, be more specific and have someone other than your himbo husband review the contract. Oh, that’s right, you only have one soul to sell, so there won’t be a next time. Ha hah ah hah ha ha haaaaa.
Q: Whazzat! Where’s am I? Who! Get me my Viagra, you cunt! Damn young uppity whipper-snapper negro! Straight talk express, dammit! Horseshit! – An Old Fart in Arizona.
A: Go back to sleep, Senator McCain. A private nurse will be along shortly with your meds.
Q: I just can’t vote for Barack Obama. I mean, shit, he has the same middle name as Saddam’s last name and his first and last names are so…so…African or Islam or something. He must be Muslim. And all Muslims hate America. He’ll aim all our nukes at our own cities and push the button as soon as his ass gets in the Oval Office. – Charles Dahmer Gacy, Crapshoot, Nev.
A: Uh, Chuck…if you want to cast stones at someone simply because of the name their parents gave them instead of the evidence, let me mention a few to you: Charles Manson. Jeffrey Dahmer. John Wayne Gacy. All of them psychotic killers. I’ve notified the FBI of your address, since you clearly must be just like them.
Q: Hummus Idol! I just saw Jesus’ face in my oatmeal! And last week, the Virgin Mary’s face was burned into one of my pancakes! What is God trying to tell me? – Gretchen Pablum, St. Oilstain, Texas
A: I’ll have Senator McCain’s private nurse drop by your place with some medications that will help you with that problem of yours.
Q: I really like hanging out at atheist discussion groups and blogs online and telling them of Jesus’ love for them because I know if I tell them enough times and I just keep at them, I will save their souls. Aren’t I special? And when I finish college, I plan to become a door-to-door evangelist in my spare time after work. – Arthur J. Brickwall, Shriner Heights, Ohio
A: Yes. Commendable. Yeah. Let me provide some career advice and offer you up some jobs that are well-suited to your personality: alcohol distribution manager to Mormon communes, ice salesman in the Arctic Circle, intelligence analyst for the CIA, or animal testing and fur-coat industry liaison to PeTA.
(Hummus Idol does not speak as a representative or agent of Deacon Blue or anyone else associated with this blog. In fact, Hummus Idol doesn’t exist. He is wholly and completely a manufactured character that acts as an angry facade behind which Deacon Blue can hide for petty entertainment purposes and for times when he needs to be extra crusty and get shit off his chest. That said, you can feel free to shower the Hummus Idol with offerings of jewelry, money or fine art…he will make sure it goes someplace where it is needed.) View complete list of Humus Idol entries here.